Christmas Bowl in the first HighSchool Year
by Makiko Igami
Summary: Musashi is sick, Hiruma pays him a visit. Oh, and it's Christmas.


The doorbell rang.

Takekura Gen grumbled and turned around, pulling the sheets further over his head.

The doorbell rang again. Twice.

Takekura Gen growled and considered throwing his pillows into the general direction of the door, hoping that it would miraculously make it through the door and hit whoever dared to disturb his healthy slumber square over the head, but in the end he was not able to muster the energy for it.

The doorbell rang once more. And did not stop to ring either.

Takekura Gen growled, grumbled and decided to get up and kick that persistent bastard's ass so hard that he landed in Okinawa. That would maybe give him enough time to get over his headache. Lazily he put on some clothes to keep the heat to his body even though he was sweating so hard that you would think he just ran a marathon. Snuffling to keep his nose from running he staggered over to the door and opened it with shivering hands ready to kick some ass when suddenly his vision went black for a second and he had to support himself against the doorframe.

"Fucking old man, you don't look so fine, huh?" his guest, the devil himself, stated, looking at him with a worried frown.

"No shit, Sherlock," Musashi mumbled, despite his earlier resolves making some space for the blond to come inside. If only the world would stop spinning around him…

"What do you have? A flu? You look like you're about to die," Hiruma stated as he watched Musashi close the door behind him.

"Influenza. The real shit, you know?" Musashi said, coughing to emphasize his point.

"You've gotta be kidding me. You're outside almost 24/7 and _you've_ got Influenza?! Man, I thought your body defenses were better than that."

"They cough are, usually," Musashi explained, slowly lowering himself down onto his bed again. "This virus just happens to circulate with all our workers…"

"And you were so stupid to catch it," Hiruma concluded, looking down on him.

"No, I was the one who told them to go him for the next week or two, until this damned virus had worn off. Unfortunately, I was already infected by it by then… And well, you see the result," Musashi shrugged and pulled the covers back up.

"…How long have you been like that?" Hiruma asked, his eyes narrowing.

"For two days now," Musashi answered, "why?"

But he received no answer. Instead, Hiruma put down the back that he had in his hand and disappeared into the direction of the kitchen. Musashi heard the water going, but decided not to pay it any mind and tried to get some more sleep instead. His slumber was rudely interrupted though when some cold lump was dumped onto his forehead.

"What the-?!" he started, sitting bolt upright. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Don't complain and get back to sleep. No complaints!" Hiruma warned as Musashi opened his mouth to protest. A long finger was pointed directly between his eyes and the older looking boy decided not to oppose this demon. Thus he sighed and lay back down, stifling a yawn that turned into a cough and closed his eyes. The wet cloth on his head felt wonderful as it sucked out the heat from his body where it was not needed anymore. Somehow it even helped to make his body feel warmed and it made the shivers subside.

He fell into a rather deep slumber that was only disturbed by the sound of metal hitting metal and some occasional curses from Hiruma. Both was surprisingly easy to ignore in his current state of mind, so he slept through all of the ruckus that the blond devil caused in his kitchen.

Takekura Gen only woke up when somebody started poking him repeatedly into his sides.

"Hey, fucking old man, wake up and eat some soup," Hiruma grumbled.

For a moment, Musashi thought that he was hallucinating. In front of him sat a bowl of steaming Miso soup with lots of vegetables and some tofu, all looking very healthy. For a heartbeat, he wondered where Hiruma got all of these ingredients as he was sure he did not have any of them in his kitchen, but then he remembered that it was _Hiruma_ and he probably did want to know anyways.

So he kept quiet and silently ate the soup, ignoring the fact that Hiruma was wearing an apron with reindeers over his black turtleneck. Next to them on the bed, the TV was playing, showing a football match…

"…Today is Christmas Bowl," Musashi mumbled around his spoon.

"Yes," Hiruma nodded, eyes fixed on the screen. "The Christmas Bowl that you robbed us of the ability to go to."

The accusation stung, but Musashi had expected it. He thought that he was used to it, but even he himself was surprised by the intensity of the guilt that he felt.

"I'm sorry," he coughed, keeping on eating his soup.

"Next year it's our last chance. After that… we won't be able to enter it anymore," Hiruma stated matter-of-factly.

Musashi winced, biting back his retort that they never really had a chance anyways, but he knew that Hiruma did not want to hear that.

"Next year, it will be us there," Hiruma mumbled, leaning against his shoulder as he lazily watched the game. "I'll make sure it'll be us. All of us."

Musashi snorted.

"That includes you, too, you know?" The blond looked up, never shifting from leaning against his shoulder though.

"You know that won't happen, not with my old man's current bad health, not to mention that you need to find a few regular players and-"

"Well, it's still a year to go and there will be new students in April. Maybe there's one or another ace among them…"

"You mean somebody like Shin Seijuro from Ohjo? A perfect player? I doubt that," Musashi mumbled, putting the now empty bowl aside.

"No, I don't want somebody like Shin. Somebody like that wouldn't fit into the Devil Bats. I want somebody more… understated…"

"By the way, you shouldn't really be here," Musashi interrupted, changing the topic since he did not really want to care about the Devil Bats anymore after leaving them. "I'm sick and I could infect you."

"I doubt so," Hiruma mumbled. "My body is resistant against any kind of sickness."

"Of course it is. But these are killer viruses. If they managed to make _me_ this sick…"

"You're a wimp. My body is stronger than that."

"If that's what you think…" Musashi sighed. "Could you move a little bit? I want to lie back down…"

Wordlessly Hiruma sat up, letting the carpenter move like he wanted to, just to snuggle up against his shoulder after he was done. Musashi snorted, snuffled and then coughed, curling up into a tight ball to stop the spasms but Hiruma simply rubbed his back and he felt better at once. Contently he closed his eyes and drifted off to peaceful slumber with dreams filled with football.

Just before he dozed off completely though, he heard Hiruma whisper almost lovingly into his ear, "Merry Christmas, Musashi."


End file.
